


Hormones

by bulbasoars



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Awkward Romance, F/M, FerrisWheelShipping, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Internal Monologue, Too Much Internal Monologue Honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 10:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3324389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bulbasoars/pseuds/bulbasoars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only explanation for the bout of new feelings Hilda developed for the self-proclaimed king is defined by the term, "hormones". Love is simply a word coined by lovesick idiots. It starts to feel less and less that way however, after her "observation" of N from behind a bush. Ferriswheelshipping. one-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hormones

**Author's Note:**

> This is arguably one of the worst things I've ever written, unaccounting for fanfiction I've written before delving into Pokemon, but whatever. I wish I edited this a bit more...

From my standpoint, it's better to  _not_  try and gain nothing than to try under the pretense that something good might happen-but inevitably fail. I like to think things through, ensuring that decisions I make always lead to a definite conclusion. I don't like taking roads less traveled, taking sail to an uncharted island, or dreaming up impossible goals that I can never hope to fulfill. In short, I'm not one for surprises, nor do I wait for things to get better. or waste lifetimes imagining the possibilities. 'Expect the unexpected?' Oh  _please_. If I don't already know what I'm going to end up with from the start, I don't bother doing anything at all. Don't give me that crap quote 'It's better to try than not try at all' because there's absolutely no point in that when the odds are already stacked sky-high against you.

Which is why I hate the idea of 'finding your one true love' so very much.

Ever since I can remember, I have never indulged myself in the silly romantic fantasies that my peers had. I never drew cute little pictures of a boy that held my fancy. I never giggled or blushed when a boy with decent features passed by. Nor has my heart ever taken from me, rendering me completely enraptured by a person that I firmly believed myself to be destined with. Why should I, when in the end, that same boy would eventually grow tired of me and throw me away like a broken toy and trample all over my heart? Of course, such an incident has never occurred to me.

The whole "falling-in-love" scenario never clicked with someone as logical as me. It's all a bunch of sugary crap that provides you with happiness for the first few years of your life before you're diagnosed with a serious case of Type II diabetes. It's a drug addiction you can't fight off once you've started. A scientific experiment gone wrong that you can't help but continuously try to repair even when its electric circuit has completely combusted and no means of fixing it is available. A curse you can never find the solution to unless you have your true love's kiss, which obviously would never take place since  _love doesn't exist in the first place_.

And thank Arceus for that. I was never a victim of love, and never will be because the whole event of finding someone to share love with just seems plain silly and unrealistic. How many marriages end in divorce? I don't know, and why should I bother? Falling in love has no definite answer. No one can tell for sure if a relationship was destined to be or not until the very end. I don't like indefinite conclusions and I'm not waiting to see if falling in love leads to giving me a happy or sad ending.

That's what I told myself, anyway. While crouched behind a bush, stalking-

...Wait, no, I was not  _stalking_  him, I was  _observing_. Don't confuse me with Bianca.

_Anyway,_ my subject of observation was none other than the self-proclaimed King of Team Plasma, or as I like to call him, King of Hypocritical-Hippies-That-Kicked-Munnas (AKA Team HHTKM.)

...Or perhaps, somewhat more accurately, N. That's right. The one my blue eyes were centered upon was a man with a single letter for a name.

Well, I wasn't  _completely_  focused on him, because only love-sick people would be so apt to train their eyes on the one they held a crush on. Which  _clearly_  does not define me...moving on.

The reason I had decided to observe this man known as N was simply because….I was interested. That's an appropriate way of stating that I may think he's attractive and wanted to get to know him a little.

I said that  _I may_. I  _may_  think he's attractive. But I most certainly do  _not_.

About a foot away from my location, he stood still, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other clung onto the visor of his cap. I watched as he tilted his head up to get a look at the blue expanse above him. I decided to look up too in hopes that I could look attractive like him while facing the sky. (Not that he's attractive.) By the time I looked back to my subject however, he was gone.

I heard a rustle of leaves behind me. Turning to confront the intruder, I was met with the familiar face of my subject. Of N. He had crouched down to meet my level, which seemed to be quite a feat considering his colossal height compared to mine.

As per usual, he gave me that really weird stare of his with those  _beautiful grey eyes of his_ -

Moving on.

"Hilda?" He blinked, breaking me away from the trance he kept me in from those  _beautiful grey_ -

"G-go away!" I shouted loudly at my inner thoughts. Of course, N heard this as well. He cocked his head to the side, no doubt confused by my outburst.

"…Are you alright?" N asked.

No I most certainly am  _not_  okay. Every time I see you I get the urge to pounce on you and hug you and hold your hand and  _smile_ , and those  _most certainly are not_  actions that I, Hilda, would ever initiate.

That was what I planned to say before it all came gushing out of my mouth as, "Uhh."

N stared at me for a while before abruptly taking my hands in his and pulling at my arms to bring me to a standing position. Standing at his full height, he continued to stare down at me, grey eyes concentrated on my face.

"…What the hell was-" Before the rest of my question could be formed, he draped his arms around me…

So, here I was, completely frozen over in shock, trying to register what exactly was going on. My mind seemed to numb along with my body, causing me to simply…stand there. I caught on to what was happening after a while and came to a conclusion:

N was hugging me.

I made no move to struggle against the embrace even as he tightened his arms around me. If he were another person, for example a creepy old man, perhaps my reaction would have been a bit different. Perhaps I wouldn't just stand there, with a warm blush painted onto my cheeks (from the heat….of the sun) and feelings of Beautifly fluttering about in my stomach (from being famished of course.)

I got a whiff of the minty freshness that scented his conveniently green-colored hair. And on a whim I had almost (emphasis on  _almost_ ) wrapped my arms around him in response.

But  _I didn't_. Because, as stated before, I'm no victim of short-lived romances…but it's not like there's any romance between me and the man-child to begin with, so ha.

As I was saying, I did not hug him. In fact, I ducked under his bone-crushing hug and leapt about a foot backwards, my arms crossed and my pale cheeks still flushed.

We stood there for about a minute just staring at each other before I sputtered out: "What was that?"

Wait, no. I didn't sputter. That would imply that I was nervous. Only girls with crushes get nervous like that. Forgive my incorrect wording.

His reply was possibly stolen from a Barney episode, except littered with scientific reasoning only N would incorporate into a children's show: "The act of wrapping one's arms around a human whose emotional balance is at a low point seems to result in a renewed sense of happiness in said downtrodden individual after the action has been commenced."

What?

I hate to admit it, but it took me a while to decipher what N said before coming up with a reply. "That's ridiculous! Who the hell gave you a stupid idea like that? Hugs don't brighten up people's moods! That's too corny to actually work in real life!" I would accuse hopeless romantics for believing in this "philosophy," but in the end, only children would have faith in such utter crap.

N furrowed his brows, befuddled by my response for some reason. He voiced the reason behind his confusion.

"I assumed that 'hugs' were the solution to your dampened mood because I've seen it happen multiple times during my travels." N replied with casual confidence.

"….You've seen it happen?" I asked, my voice laced with disbelief. Now, of course I knew that people hugged. But since I was adamantly against anyone from touching me even if it was a simple pat on the back, I couldn't imagine anyone actually wrapping their arms around each other in public.

Unless it was between a pair of lovers. Which at this point does not surprise me. Lovey-dovey people do lovey-dovey crap; it's a fact. But I'm pretty sure a hug wouldn't save their relationship from shattering anyway, so what was the point?

N nodded. "I've indulged myself in the human world long enough to observe their habits and act upon them accordingly."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his statement. "News flash, N. You've always been in the human world. You act as if you've never set foot outside your home before." I can't help but let a small smile of amusement stretch upon my face.

"Until a few months ago that has been the case," he paused, his  _perfect eyes_  staring back at me, "And I see that my hypothesis was correct. Initiating a hug does brighten up moods." He said, noting the small smile on my face.

I blinked a couple of times, mentally slapping myself for not wiping off my stupid smile before he'd see it. "I wasn't smiling over the hug, idiot. I just find your weirdness to be-" I stopped myself because I had almost said something I'd regret.

_Endearing_. It'd imply that I find his cluelessness as cute, or attractive. The last thing I needed was him thinking that I thought that he was attractive. Arceus knows that that is definitely far from the truth. Even if his naiveté did indeed spark the urge to give him a big hug.

….I did not just think that. Please ignore the idiocy of that statement because it is definitely a lie.

"…humorous." I recovered, sparing myself from any embarrassment had I chosen to call his abnormalities 'endearing'.

"I see." N gave a low bow of his head.

I was staring at him. Not because he was attractive or cool or etcetera. I was waiting for him to do something, anything. But he just stood there, letting the visor of his hat shadow over his eyes.

His hat was covering his beautiful grey eyes.

Without realizing it, I sprung my hand up to flick his black and white cap off of his head while he was hunched down, giving me a clear view of his eyes. He gave me a questioning look before bending down to pick his cap up from the ground. I used one of my arms to stop him.

"Hilda, I'd like to get my hat."

"I'd like you to not." I retorted. A clever comeback, I know.

He raised an eyebrow before straightening up. "If that's what you want."

I smirked. The guy knew not to mess with me. Yeah I have skinny arms and skinny legs but rub off me the wrong way and, with time, I will beat you to the ground.  _Lots_ of time, but I'm persistent. I wouldn't be able to take down anyone with a few punches, but I can wear anyone down with the power of hanging onto their neck until they either faint or choke or suffocate-

It seems that in the midst of my imagination N had gotten a hold of his hat.

"Damn it." I glared at him. I, Hilda, am not one to be duped so easily! I made a grab for the stupid hat. If I wanted him to not wear the hat, then damn it, he better not be wearing the hat!

Unfortunately, with him being so tall, and me being so…below average height, it was pretty much impossible for me to be able reach for the cap.

"Give me the hat, N." I said calmly. Calmly with a  _I'm-gonna-kick-you-if-you-don't-listen-to-me_  look.

"Why?" He asked.

Was that a challenge?

"N, give me the hat and no one gets hurt." I seethed.

"What happens if I don't?"

"Like I said, someone'll get hurt, and between you and me, I'm sure you have a pretty good idea."

He just stared at me.

I jumped in an attempt to get the hat. And for some reason, my legs tangled in the air and seconds later I was on the ground, my stomach hurting and no hat in my grasp.

"…You have impeccable foresight to have predicted this." N remarked, truly impressed.

"I was actually hoping for  _you_  to be the idiot on the ground." I muttered, my stomach still flat upon the floor. N must have had super-hearing or something because he heard my statement.

"Ah. Why?" he asked again.

I hoisted myself off the ground and into a sitting position, legs crossed. "You won't give me the stupid hat."

N knelt down beside me. "If you think my hat is stupid, then why are you so desperate for it?" His voice was laced with genuine curiosity rather than condescension. I still found it to be quite a blow to my pride.

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. "I don't need to explain myself to you." I still needed the hat though. For some reason, that hat was pissing me off. Royally. And it's  _not_  because of his eyes. I had to figure out a way to get that hat, even if it meant by force.

It was then I realized that I had pokémon.

I scooted away from N and stood up, a pokéball poised in hand. I allowed a finger to graze over the white button on the front, and unleashed a terrifying, massive, strong…

Darumaka. I have a thing for adorable pokémon. There's definitely no possibility of them turning on me and feasting upon my human flesh, you see.

Darumaka began to dance, a wide crescent of a smile overtaking the majority of its face. I sighed, tapping it on the back to halt its dancing. It readied itself in a battle stance once it realized that our opponent stood in front of us.

"Alright, Apples," I straightened my cap, "show this bastard that I'm no force to be reckoned with, and scorch his ass!" I cried. I can't help but let a malicious grin stretch across my face.

"A pokémon would never hurt m-" N's words were cut short when Apples did a front-flip in preparation for a flame wheel.

Eyes widened, N ducked as Apples glided above him as a ball of fire.

Apples landed onto the ground, readying itself for another Flame Wheel before I shook my head. I turned to N, propping my hands onto my hips and letting the grin on my face widen even more. I'm damn good at looking cool and getting what I want.

"See here, N. Apples looks like she's itching to set fire upon you and your hat. So, give it up, and I won't have her char you until you've been degraded into a pile of ashes. Unless you're some sicko that's into the idea of fourth-degree burns." Now, see, I'm not a cruel person. I always give a fair warning to my victims before I begin the torture session. No harm done.

(Thinking back on that statement, I wish I could've worded that in a way that sounded less like it was taken straight out of a BDSM film.)

N sat on the ground, legs crossed and with a blank look on his face. I watched as he dug into the pocket of his pants, producing a berry of cerulean color. A Rawst Berry. This berry was a primary part of a Darumaka's diet.

"Apples, would you like to have this?" N asked, waving the berry in front of the Darumaka's face. Apples squealed in joy and waddled off to N's side leaving me slack-jawed and, once again, royally pissed off.

"No! Charge up another flame wheel!" I cried, this time in desperation. Apples was far too busy eating its berry to care about what I was saying. I slapped a hand onto my face. There was no way to grab her attention, so I simply gave up, recalling the Darumaka. A cold glare emanated from my eyes as I gazed down at the stupid idiot on the floor with the stupid hat that hung over his  _stupidly_  hypnotic eyes.

N looks up at me from his sitting position.

_His sitting position._

I realized it was my chance to make a grab for the accursed hat. Before I could formulate a plan on how to go about it, N interrupts me.

"Tell me why you want it so much and I'll give it to you."

And tell him that I just wanted to see his eyes? Hell no.

"I just think it's stupid that your hat is always covering your eyes!" I told him anyway. I slapped a hand onto my face again.  _Stupid stupid stupid._

He gave me a quizzical look. "May I inquire as to why you must see my eyes?"

I paused for a moment, ensuring that I don't accidentally blurt out something utterly ridiculous this time. I sorted through my head for an answer to his question, and when I finally figure out what to say, I look at him straight in the eyes (unfortunately a dark shadow casts over them…wait, no I meant fortunately) and open my mouth to give him the explanation I had concocted in my head.

Then I realize that it would be difficult to lie to someone who's always so honest. Granted, he can be so frank to the point of insensitivity, but the fact that he has never lied to me made it a bit hard to pay him back with a lie of my own. Finding myself unable to lie to someone as truthful as the king, I ended up losing control over my words again. "They're pretty, plus your hair looks really sexy without- _dammit_."

"Ah, I see." And once again, N didn't seem fazed at all by my words. He doesn't so much as bat an eyelash at my statement. Isn't 'sexy' supposed to instigate some sort of reaction? Flattery? Disgust?

"…do you know what 'sexy' means?" I asked, partially as a joke, but mostly with concern.

"If I were to guess," He lifted a finger to his chin, head tilted up to the sky deep in thought, "I'd say that you are referring to my sex appeal. Correct?"

I tensed up, feeling the temperature in my cheeks rise. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and I was left standing still looking like a hormone-crazed teen. And I said ' _looking like_ ,' which means that I'm not a hormone-crazed teen at all.  _It was a simile damn it._

"I'm not at all surprised by your statement." N said, cutting through the momentary pause in our conversation.

What?

"Wait, are you implying that…are you implying that you knew I thought you were sexy all along? I-I MEAN, IT'S NOT LIKE I REALLY THINK YOU'RE SEXY, GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER!" I flailed my arms and raised my voice a bit more than I had intended.

"…no. I wasn't implying anything." N responded, "But if that's how you think of me, then by all means, go ahead."

"W-what?" WHAT?

"I don't mind that you harbor feelings for me, I…" To my surprise, a flash of scarlet spread upon N's cheeks instead of mine for once, "I might also feel the same. I'm not referring to your sex appeal. I genuinely…think you're a great person. I…don't understand what I should call this feeling, though." He finished, tugging at his collar and averting his eyes away from me.

A…confession? HA. HAHA. HAHAHA.  _Nope._  I won't indulge myself in meaningless romances like this. I won't get myself tangled up in the affairs known as "love." There's no such thing as love, remember? The definite conclusion to this story, if I chose to follow through with it, would only lead to momentary happiness and an irreparable heart. I'm not an idiot. I'm not like the other fools that believe in the idea that love conquers all. The only thing it can possible conquer is your life, leaving you with only "love" as your guiding light, and when that falls apart the entire world around you will undoubtedly crumble. I'm not like that.

I'm not going to end up like Mom.

I smirked. "N," I begin, "What you are feeling is the effects of hormones." I explained. There's nothing else more accurate than that.

"You must be mistaken. Hormones is the process in which a cell releases a chemical that sends out messages to the body. I don't think that quite describes what I'm feeling." N replied. It sounded like a definition straight out of Wikipedia.

"Those same hormones are the ones that result in you developing a boyhood crush on someone. It doesn't last long, so just ignore it." Please do. It'll save me from a migraine.

"If it doesn't last long, how does that explain the situation between your two friends?" He couldn't possibly be referring to  _them_ , right?

Cheren and Bianca. My ex-friends, so to speak. After they came under the influence of "love" I cut off all ties with them for their idiocy. They constantly try to reach out to me. They tell me that I should learn to accept that they love each other. They attempt to visit me and send me calls and messages each day to tell me how much they miss me. But I'm persistent. Despite their pleas, I won't go back to them. I don't want to associate myself with lovesick fools. I don't care that it's been a year since I last spoke to them.

"Those two are idiots. They have no idea what they're getting themselves into. It's hormones. It'll be short-lived." I replied, sharpness tingeing my voice.

"If my memory serves me correctly, it'll have been a year since they've been together. How does that make it a result of hormones, if hormones is supposed to provide only temporary feelings?" Is this idiot serious?

"It just is, okay?!" I  _cleverly_  retorted.

N shook his head. "I think differently. They described it with another word. I believe it was," he paused for a moment, "Love."

My whole body shook, and I felt my nails start puncturing into the palms of my hands. How dare he believe for a moment that he feels love?  _You can't feel something that doesn't exist._

"No. Don't think for a second that it's…that." My voice was quiet.

"Hilda. It's not hormones. Because if it were, I wouldn't have been…in love with you for this long."

My breathing halted and I'm sure that my cheeks were completely red at that point. It had to have been from anger. I couldn't have been blushing. I wouldn't show weakness to this…idiot. This-this idiot that hugged me and left me a sputtering mess when no one else was ever able to render me nervous before. The idiot with a quirky attitude that I find  _endearing_. The idiot with the beautiful grey eyes. The idiot who, despite his role as my enemy, has been nothing but completely honest to me. The idiot that can actually make me consider for a moment, that maybe love can exist.

I shook my head furiously.  _Why am I acting so weird today?_

_…Hormones._ Of course. It was inevitable. I'm a teen girl, on the peak of adolescence. I should have predicted I'd be under the influence as well. I…don't love N. That's ridiculous. It's all a part of human nature. Kids have to go through the hormonal stage to mature into an adult. A mature adult that realizes the concept of love is simply a means of fooling people into chasing after something that does not exist.

"Call it what you want. If you think 'love' defines your feelings, then go ahead. It's all bullshit to me anyway." I snapped.

I felt a cold hand wrap around my wrist. N's grip was gentle, so I could have easily slipped my hands out of his. I didn't move however. His next words had me glued to the spot and my heart beat as if it had run for miles.

"Hilda, do you feel the same way about me? Do you…love me?"

I was going to outright reject him. I was going to break out of his grip and glare at him. The whole scenario was planned out in my head. I knew I could only speak the truth to him, so I answered, "Yeah. I love you."

N smiled that gorgeous smile and reaches up to the brim of his cap. He took it off and offered it to me. Even with the lack of words exchanged, I knew that this gesture was N's way of pleading for me to go steady with him. After all, he was probably unfamiliar with how a boy goes about asking a girl to become their girlfriend. Nevertheless, I took the hat, and he knew that I accepted.

And suddenly it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of me. I felt like a Gurdurr relieved of its I-beam, as light as a Chandelure, and the fire of a Darumaka swelled in my heart...

Was that too corny? Whatever. I am officially a part of the "Lovesick Idiots Club" so I'm allowed to be as cheesy as Miltank dairy.

That was the day I stampeded into Cheren's house, knowing that Bianca would also be there. I hugged them tightly, telling them that I now knew why it was imperative for them to be together. Bianca practically " _glomped"_  me, while Cheren stood in the background muttering, "What a bother," before joining in on the hug as well with a minuscule smile on his face.

That was also the day I sprinted into my house and apologized to my mom for all the times I told her that she was an idiot for ever falling in love. She patted my head, handed me a small, unlabeled box she slipped out from her pillowcase, and told me not to get carried away. I opened it...and threw it straight into the garbage at the sight of the contents.

And on that day, N's hand had been in mine the entire time as we journeyed all the way back to Nuvema to mend the severed ties between me, my friends, and my mother.

It was on that day I found out that love was real. Sure, love has no definite conclusion. I'm not sure how long this will last. But I don't care anymore. Life is full of surprises and unexpected twists and turns. One of those twists include falling in love with a man you're supposed to consider the enemy. But who cares? I might as well indulge myself in the surprise life decided to gift me with.

Whether it was the hormones or not, I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter all that much. I like surprises.


End file.
